


Throwing Stones in Glass Houses

by concede



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concede/pseuds/concede
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p>“<i>Loki</i>,” Thor warns in a low growl, averting his gaze as his cheeks acquire a red hue. Now is not the time, and this is not the place, to be doing <i>that</i>, after all. Such things are best kept to the privacy of one’s bedchambers, Thor thinks, or at the very least a discreet corner somewhere.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Throwing Stones in Glass Houses

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor warns in a low growl, averting his gaze as his cheeks acquire a red hue. Now is not the time, and this is not the place, to be doing _that_ , after all. Such things are best kept to the privacy of one's bedchambers, Thor thinks, or at the very least a discreet corner somewhere should there be a sense of urgency.

His brother perseveres, a smirk curling his thin lips as he idly runs his fingers along the prominent bulge at the front of his trousers. “What?” Loki asks, all faux innocence as he blinks his long, dark lashes at Thor. He makes a show of inhaling a slow, deep breath, chest heaving as his lashes fan across the highs of his cheeks. “ _Oh_ ,” he moans, spreading his thighs in an obscene manner as he starts to massage with the heel of his hand, pressing down against his hardness. “But it feels so good, Thor…”

It’s as infuriating as it is arousing, and Thor scowls at nothing in particular. He would have crossed the space between them already, bound his impudent brother with cuffs to cease his salacious actions, but he cannot; Loki is confined to the prison (though he doesn’t seem to mind much being kept as their prisoner) meant for the Hulk, and all Thor can do is bemoan the fact this particular cage is made of _glass_.

He can see everything his wicked little brother does from the corner of his eye, the way he arches his back as his moans, baring his neck for all to see. Thor is struck with the urge to claim him, to bite and mark that graceful neck that everyone on the Nine Realms should know Loki is taken— that Loki belongs to him, to Thor, in every sense of belonging, and it matters little that he is an enemy of Asgard. 

Loki stands, and Thor doesn’t watch – tries not to listen – as the other man shucks off his heavy armour to leave himself entirely exposed to the cool air. There’s no denying the surge of arousal he feels, however, flowing hot as the fires of Muspelheim through his veins as he imagines Loki, imagines the smooth expanse of pale skin on display, creamy thighs parted to reveal his full cock protruding from a nest of dark curls…

“Stop this,” Thor hears himself croak, arousal thick in the air and causing his cock to stir with reluctant interest. He has always been so weak to resist Loki’s allure; there is something so captivating about him, something that makes Thor want as much as he doesn’t want and love as much as he hates. “Stop this madness, brother.”

Loki steps forward, his gait slow and sure, until he is once more in Thor’s line of vision. He rests his forehead against the glass, pink tongue darting out across his lips as he meets his brother’s gaze. Thor’s hand moves down to cup his own erection, squeezing through his trousers, and Loki’s sharp eyes follow the movement, his smile wide and unabashed. “Come closer, Thor,” he says, his voice a sultry purr, and Thor obeys without thought, crossing the span of the room and ducking his head that their foreheads rest together, separated only by the thick pane of glass. 

Distantly, Thor hears the whir of the camera following their movements. It shames him enough to move his hand away from his crotch, but the same cannot be said for Loki, who has started to rut slowly against the glass, his cock sliding with each gyration of his hips. Thor dares to look down, his breath hitching in his throat as he sees Loki’s pre-come glistening, pearly streaks of it on the glass. “Loki,” he whispers, near-whimpers, wanting to touch and bring the other to completion.

Loki takes himself in hand, teeth sinking down into the jut of his lower lip as he strokes himself, languid pumps of his cock until his hips are stuttering in their rhythm. Thor’s own arousal throbs, desperate for release, but he refuses to move, to miss a single moment of this show. He barely even breathes, for his breath fogs up the glass and makes it harder to see Loki’s clever hand working his cock, thumb massaging just under the head every few strokes and causing a pearly bead of pre-come to well up at the tip. Thor wants so badly to lean in and kiss the weeping head, to lap up his brother’s pre-spending. The desire to do so shocks him so much he almost takes a step back. Of course, he doesn’t. He can’t bring himself to do anything but watch, listen, desire.

“Thor!” Loki gasps out, his hand little more than a blur on his cock. He’s working himself even faster now as his pleasure heightens and begins to peak, each stroke of his length from base to tip imprecise but exactly what he needs if the sounds he makes are any indication. His skin sheens with perspiration, beads of sweat gathering in the hollows of his throat and around his collarbone. His hair is damp with it, dark tresses curling inwards around his nape and making him look so—

“You’re beautiful,” Thor murmurs, voice a low rumble in his chest. He doesn’t mean it to be said aloud, but the words linger in the heady air between them, and there’s no taking them back now. Loki stares at him, green eyes wide and glistening with pleasure, and then comes hard. A loud cry of pleasure floods the shocked silence as his cock spurts hot seed and continues to twitch even afterwards through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“… Such foolish sentiment,” Loki breathes in belated answer, though his gaze is as soft as his cock, utterly spent. 

Thor watches Loki’s seed dribble down the glass between them, his mouth dry in comparison to the damp patch that has formed on his trousers. Of course Loki notices, a derisive laugh spilling from his lips as he finally steps backwards, sweeping a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Like a mere boy,” Loki taunts cruelly, “the future king of Asgard spends himself in his trousers… And here I’d heard such wonderful things of your stamina!”

Humiliated and ruddy-cheeked, Thor turns on his heel and leaves.

Stark seems almost too eager to volunteer for the next shift of watching the prisoner. 


End file.
